Don't Ever Forget (Adler and Dwyer)

by Matthew Farrell

  Her mother swung her legs onto the floor to sit up. Susan kicked her shoes off and walked into the kitchen.

  “What’d you do all day?” Susan asked.

  “I had my shows. Did some reading. Did my exercises.”

  “Strange with the kids not here, right?”

  “Very strange. I miss them.”

  “Eric should be by any second to drop them off. I talked to him before. He said they did great.”

  “Good. He needs to spend more time with his children. They’re going to be off to college before he knows it, and he can’t miss out on them growing up. Not like he’s been.”

  Susan could hear her mother coming to join her in the kitchen as she pulled a pan from the lower cabinet next to the sink and spun around to snatch the butter and cheese from the refrigerator. “He’s been better. I think after what happened, he started reassessing his role as Tim and Casey’s dad.”

  Beatrice huffed and sat down at the kitchen table. “Too bad it takes attempted murder to get him to play a part in his children’s lives.”

  “Relax, Ma. Put the claws away.”

  Susan opened the bread box and took four slices from the bag. She buttered each side, then tossed them onto the pan. She and Eric had been divorced for two years and separated for three. He was still dating his much younger coworker, which in its own twisted way made her feel better about the divorce in general. If Eric’s new relationship had only lasted long enough for him to get his rocks off or for the younger executive to get that promotion she so clearly wanted, Susan would’ve felt as if the separation and the heartache would’ve been for naught. But the happy couple were still together, hanging in despite their slightly ridiculous age difference, and that made her feel as if her ex really had moved on to something he perceived as better. But having said all that, screw him. He was an asshole for leaving her the way he did, and despite learning to coexist with him for the sake of the twins, Susan knew she could never really forgive him. That wasn’t going to happen. Ever.

  “So how was your day?” Beatrice asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

  Susan flipped the sandwiches. “A trooper was killed during a traffic stop this morning. The entire troop is on full alert.”

  “I saw that on the news. You’re involved in the investigation?”

  “Kind of. Our suspect lives in White Plains, but there are some ties to Verplanck, which is our jurisdiction, so I’m checking it out.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Susan looked at her mother as a smile crept upon her face. Beatrice was smiling too.

  The twins were home.

  “Give me that spatula,” Beatrice said, standing from the table. “I’ll finish the sandwiches. Go.”

  Susan handed her mother the spatula and raced down the hall. She took a moment to compose herself and opened the door to Casey falling into her legs.

  “Mommy!”

  “Hi, honey!” Susan rubbed her daughter’s back and couldn’t help but laugh. “How was your sleepover?”

  “It was great! We went to Chuck E. Cheese and watched Netflix shows and played dance games. It was the best!”

  “That’s terrific!” She looked up and saw Eric standing in front of her. He was tired, which made her happy. His eyes were two slits. “They wear you out?”

  “Oh, yes, they did. We had fun, though.” He smiled, and for a flash, it made her knees weak. That smile always did, although its power over her had been diminishing with time. “I looked for an off switch but couldn’t find one on either of them.”

  “I’ve been looking for that switch for six years. Believe me, if it was there, I would’ve gotten to it by now.”

  “My babies are home!”

  Susan turned to see her mother standing just inside the kitchen, arms outstretched, a look of pure joy on her face.

  “Grandma!”

  Casey broke away from Susan and ran down the hall. Susan watched the six-year-old jump into her grandmother’s arms; then she turned back around to find Tim hugging Eric’s leg.

  “How you doing, bud?” She bent down and brushed the hair out of her little boy’s eyes. “Did you have fun too?”

  Tim nodded. “Yeah. We had lots of fun. I didn’t want to leave.”

  “I know, but Daddy’s gotta get on a plane in the morning for his work, and from the looks of him, I think he needs a good night’s sleep. Can I have a hug?”

  Tim slowly let go of his father’s leg and hugged Susan. It wasn’t as tight or as full of the same vigor as Casey’s, but that’s how his hugs had been since his innocence had been stolen inside his own house. The trauma was still with him, and although he’d been making progress with his therapist in Philadelphia, he still wasn’t—and might never again be—the Tim she’d known up until that night her work had invaded her home.

  Susan stood back up and gently guided Tim inside. “Go say hi to Grandma. I think she missed you more than I did.”

  The little boy nodded and snaked his way through the living room, through the dining room, and into the back of the kitchen so as to avoid that certain spot in the hallway. This was how he’d walked into the kitchen every day since that night, always refusing to step across the spot where the bad man had held a knife to his throat. He never once mistakenly crossed the area out of habit or distraction. Never.

  “How was he?” Susan asked as Eric walked inside and shut the door.

  “He was great. They both were. I think getting him out of this house was really helpful. He was more like his old self at my place.”

  “Well, that makes me feel so much better. Thanks.”

  “I’m not saying it to be an ass,” Eric replied quickly. “I’m telling you the truth, though. This house, it has a history now. For whatever reason, Casey wasn’t affected by what happened, but Tim’s traumatized. And every time he walks in here, and every time he looks at that spot in the hall, he’s reminded of what happened. It can’t be good for his well-being.”

  “It’s not like I can pull up stakes and move,” Susan snapped. “I changed the carpet in the living room. I pulled up all the flooring in the hallway. There isn’t a trace of what happened left here. Everything’s been cleared out.”

  “Except there’s the spot,” Eric said, pointing. “Might not have the same floor, and it might be cleaner than any other area in the house, but there’s the spot.” He took her hands in his. “If you want Tim to heal, I mean really heal, I think you need to consider selling this place. It might be exactly what he needs to put everything behind him. Move on, you know?”

  She could hear her mother in the kitchen with the kids. The house was back to its regular volume of activity and chaos. Footsteps, laughter, conversation, the television, the radio, the family.

  Her family.

  Her home.

  Her new life.

  “You think we should move?”

  Eric nodded. “I do. But that’s not up to me. That decision is entirely—one hundred percent—up to you.”

  16

  Trevor and Cindy sat in the living room. The windows were black, the night having taken full hold. The house was quiet. Trevor was scouring the internet for updates about the trooper’s death, and Cindy was paging through a magazine she couldn’t concentrate on.

  “You ever think you’d be in a mess like this?” she asked, her voice cutting through the silence.

  “Not in a million years.”

  “When I was younger, I took my childhood for granted like every other kid does. I figured there would always be friends and school and sports and memories of summers that I’d cherish. I’d daydream about boyfriends and what things might be like in college. I’d fantasize about my future husband and a house full of children. But nothing turned out like that. It was all just a fantasy because my sister went missing one day after school, and everything changed. It started as a normal day in a normal family, and by the end of it, we were all different.”

  Trevor looked up from the laptop. Cindy closed the magazine. />
  “I keep asking myself how I ended up here, and the only answer I keep getting is fate. It was fate that Hagen found Rebecca, right? And that Rebecca found me? I need this. I need to hear the truth about what happened to my sister from that man down in the basement because I need closure. That’s all I want. Just the closure. The peace to live the rest of my life like a normal person.”

  “We don’t even know who Hagen is.”

  “I don’t care who he is. If he can give me this one gift, I’ll be grateful.”

  “I hope you get what you’re after.”

  She closed her eyes. “I can still see everything like it was yesterday. Everything’s still so vivid. The town swooping in to try and help find her. The people we’d known all our lives joining search parties. I can still smell the wet fur of the dogs that were used to track her scent. These are the things that haunt me every day. I figure if I can find out what really happened to Sonia, some of those images and memories can finally start to fade. Maybe the nightmares will stop too.”

  She opened her eyes back up and looked at him.

  “The police were always hovering around the house, asking us questions. Even the television news stations out of Pittsburgh did a story about it. But then everything started dying down, and that’s when I could see things for what they were. All of a sudden friends weren’t allowed to come over and play with me anymore. Teachers would look at me funny. Grown-ups at the supermarket would go out of their way to avoid us. There was this cloud of suspicion hanging over me and my parents, like we did something wrong. That’s a tough thing for a child to wrap their head around, and that’s what I think ultimately made my mom kill herself. It wasn’t just the grief. It was the grief and the suspicions others in town had of us. My mother could never get over that. It was too much.”

  “How did Hagen find you?” Trevor asked.

  “According to Rebecca, it was the podcast. She said he listened and always heard me talking about how Sonia had been my best friend even more than she’d been my big sister, and when she disappeared, the girl I was disappeared right along with her. The girl who replaced her was lonely and sad and troubled. This girl didn’t bother with boys or school dances or friend groups. She didn’t care about making memories. There was only the obsession of finding out what happened to her big sister. Apparently, he thought he could use the truth to leverage my willingness to help capture James, and he was right. He had Rebecca contact me, and then I contacted you.”

  “You ever ask Rebecca how she was connected to Hagen?”

  “She said she got a call. Just like us.”

  Trevor shook his head. “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Rebecca was the only one contacted directly by Hagen. She got in touch with you, and you reached out to me. Rebecca was the only one to talk to this guy herself. I think she knows who he is.”

  “I never really thought about that.”

  “Maybe you should,” Trevor replied. “Maybe we all should. And maybe we should ask her about it when she wakes up.”

  17

  Dr. Phillip Calib was sitting at a bistro table in a coffee shop across from his office in Croton. He looked to be in his late forties, with dark hair, a thick beard, blue eyes, and olive skin. He was fit, but not overly so, and dressed in a simple pair of tan corduroys and a blue shirt, he could’ve been anything from a student to a professor to an engineer to an attorney. He was the type of man who was seen without being seen, always part of the backdrop in someone else’s situation, never a person to stand out in a crowd.

  Susan dodged the line that stretched out the door and dropped her bag on the table before taking her seat. Dr. Calib smiled and pointed toward the counter. “Can I get you a coffee or a muffin or something?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “They make the best croissants in Westchester.”

  “I ate before I left the house.” She looked around, scanning the room. “Cute place.”

  “You should see it during the week. Twice as busy. I come here every morning before the office opens. It’s my one chance to take a breath before the waiting room fills up and we’re off and running. Once I step through those doors across the street, I won’t see the outside until I’m leaving for the day, and by then the sun will be down and the town will be deserted.”

  “Sounds a little depressing.”

  “It is what it is.”

  Susan took out her notepad and placed it on the table. “As we discussed on the phone, we’re conducting an investigation regarding the state trooper who was killed yesterday morning, and Rebecca Hill is a person of interest. James Darville is also missing, and we know she was his nurse. I just need to confirm some information about your relationship with them. I know you can’t disclose doctor-patient stuff. I’m just trying to paint a larger picture for the case.”

  Dr. Calib took a sip of his coffee as he gazed out the window. “I understand.” He paused for a moment. “That poor man and his family. The wife was pregnant, right?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So tragic.”

  Susan took the cap off her pen. “How long has Mr. Darville been a patient of yours?”

  Dr. Calib turned away from the window. “He’s been with the practice for a little over ten years. I looked it up after I got off the phone with you last night. He started with Dr. Solanso, who retired six months ago. I came on board, and all of Dr. Solanso’s patients were transferred to me at that time, including James.”

  “Where were you prior?”

  “I worked in a large office with a conglomerate out of Cherry Hill. South Jersey. I came up this way looking for a smaller practice in a smaller town. Suits me better. I met Dr. Solanso through a mutual friend and learned he was retiring. It was like it was meant to be. We’re still part of the larger conglomerate here—that’s just the way the industry is these days—but our office feels small. I like that.”

  “Did Dr. Solanso’s notes say where James was prior to him coming in ten years ago?”

  “It said Pennsylvania, but it wasn’t more specific than that. Dr. Solanso never got medical files transferred. He just treated James as a new patient and did initial workups and tests in the first few visits to establish the baseline.”

  Susan wrote the information down. “How many times have you seen James since you took over?”

  “I can’t give you specifics as to why he was in to see me, as that would be a HIPAA violation, but I’m his general physician, so you can draw your own conclusions. I’ve seen him twice since taking over. You already know about the dementia, so no violations there. He spends more time with the specialists in that field than with me. As it should be.”

  “Dr. Sara Phines is his neurologist out of Phelps, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you ever recall him coming in with someone other than Rebecca Hill? We’re trying to track down any family or friends he might have.”

  “No,” Dr. Calib replied. “He was always with Rebecca.”

  “Do you work with any of Rebecca’s other patients?”

  “No. I’ve only ever seen her with James.”

  Susan scribbled her notes. “Are you familiar with Dr. Trammel?” she asked.

  “Yes,” Dr. Calib replied. “We’re all in the same network. I believe Dr. Phines referred James to Dr. Trammel for physical therapy.”

  “Have you talked to any of them lately? Do you get updates on Mr. Darville’s condition?”

  Dr. Calib took another sip of his coffee and shook his head. “No. All of our notes are in the system, so we have access to shared files and get our updates that way. That’s one of the benefits of being in the network together. If James was scheduled for a visit, I’d read up on his progress through the system. The other doctors would do the same to go over my notes. That’s how it works.”

  “Susan!”

  Susan looked up when the barista shouted her name. A younger girl bounced through the crowd and grabbed her
coffee. False alarm.

  “Last question,” she said, turning back to Dr. Calib. “Is there anything you can tell me about Rebecca Hill that might help us in our investigation? Might help us figure out where she is?”

  Dr. Calib shrugged. “Not really. Always seemed like a nice woman. We didn’t really speak much, but I wouldn’t peg her for the type of person to kill a state trooper in cold blood, that’s for sure.”

  Susan closed her notepad and slid off her seat. “Thanks, that’s all I have.”

  “If I hear anything from James, you’ll be the first one I call.”

  “I appreciate that,” Susan replied. She got up and swung her bag over her shoulder. “Enjoy the daylight while you can. Those office hours start soon.”

  18

  “Hey, time to wake up.”

  It took a moment for James to open his eyes, but when he did, a bolt of pain shot down his right shoulder. He tried to roll onto his side, but the braces on his legs kept him from moving. He reached up and massaged his neck as best he could, his breaths short and quick until he felt things loosen a bit.

  “You with me? You okay?”

  The voice came from his left side, and he turned, straining to see the woman who was sitting on the arm of the couch, a tray of cereal and a steaming mug of coffee on the table behind her. He knew this woman. Knew her face. Her hair. Her frame. But her name escaped him.

  “I think I hurt my neck.”

  She walked over to him and bent down to examine the area he was rubbing. “Let me see.” Nimble fingers brushed his hand away and began gently caressing his shoulder, pushing into the muscles and tendons. “Does that hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Getting better?”

  “A little.”

  She patted him on the chest and stood straight. “You probably slept on it wrong. You’re fine.”

  “I can’t sit up. I think my legs are caught under a boulder. I must’ve slipped in the cave. So clumsy.”

  “No cave. You have braces on your legs.”

  “Can you help me?”